


Where Shadows Lie

by AlexisGreen



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dragon curses are no joke, Dragons, F/M, Fractured Fairy Tale, From East to West, Gandalf has the best timing, Let Thorin find Bag End for a change, M/M, Multi, Reverse Chronology, Slow Burn, reverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 06:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3199325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexisGreen/pseuds/AlexisGreen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thirty years back, when the friendship between Bilbo, son of Bungo and Belladona, and the crown prince of the Lonely Mountain took hold, both hobbit and dwarf agreed to visit each other's lands every ten years. This was Bilbo's turn and Thorin's one hundredth birthday, and Bilbo was not one to miss a great big feast. Unless...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Shadows Lie

_Your hands shall flow with gold, and yet over you gold shall have no dominion._

 

Bilbo Baggins of the Shire did not arrive in time for Prince Thorin's one hundredth birthday celebrations. In fact, he did not arrive in any of the days that followed, nor in the months since.

A most peculiar fact, his absence was noted by dwarves up and down Erebor, and especially by Prince Thorin. Thirty years back, when the friendship between Bilbo, son of Bungo and Belladona, and the crown prince of the Lonely Mountain took hold, both hobbit and dwarf agreed to visit each other's lands every ten years. This was Bilbo's turn, and Bilbo was not one to miss a great big feast. The journey from the Shire was long indeed, and many perils in between could put off the hardiest of hobbits. Still, hobbits, men and elves defended the East Road taking travellers from Eriador to the Misty Mountains. Beyond, Woodland Elves took guard of the Old Ford Road and a hobbit delegation would have been seen safely to Lake-town and onwards to Erebor. So unusual and disappointing as Bilbo's absence proved, it was quite likely caused by affairs of the Shire. If there onwards wine tasted less sweet, Thorin did not say, although some suspected.

The Mountain kingdom affairs called for Thorin's attention soon, too. A particularly hard winter settled on the North. Many dwarves arrived from the Blue Mountains, forced to find shelter for the long months of snowdrifts and storms. But where Thorin saw kin seeking hot meals and dry beds, Thror, his grandfather and rightful King under the Mountain saw threat and concern. For lower into the bowels of the kingdom, close to the silver and gem mines that the dwarves were famed for, a vast treasure gathered by generations lay, and Thror protected it above all else. Deeper walls, higher security, Thror demanded, voice booming off the council hall's walls, doubling the guards and trusting but few to manage the coin in the name of the kingdom.

Thror did have just cause for concern, Thorin took a view, at least _he'd had_ just cause. Not fifty years had passed since they'd almost been robbed of their mountain. And fifty years mean little to dwarves, who are as durable as stone and as un-forgetting.  Behind his grandfather's preoccupation with the treasure, Thorin saw a legacy to pass on to his folk, like the tree that roots deeper before new shoots sprout above. He'd see the dwarves endure, live long lives, protected in the mountain; surely, Thror aimed for the same.

Eventually, the long harsh winter gave way to a wet spring and trade routes opened once again. And with springtime, more responsibilities fell on the shoulders of the Prince, the King now far too absorbed by the task of turning his treasury into an impenetrable fortress. Lake-town flooded with the snow melts and Dale over-crowded in turn, raising demands for re-enforcements. Bound by an alliance born at a time of great grief for both peoples, but by his honor also, Thorin sent out supplies, master builders and blacksmiths, until houses and fountains and bridges were all restored.

More troubles arrived as giant earth worms resurfaced in the wasteland to the North. They tunneled too close to the mountain, too close to the Men's dwellings, waterlogged as they were. Battling the worms was a dangerous pursuit; hundreds of feet long, mouths filled with curved knife-life teeth, ready to crush rock and bone alike, most armies were rendered powerless by their might.

Many months they toiled in defense and another winter slipped by. In the end, the mountain itself and the miners from the deep came to the rescue. A black powder of salts and charcoal glued together by honey proved effective as a weapon, causing great fire and smoke when lit and catapulted into the tunnels. It helped subdue the worms, stopped their advance. Thorin allowed them to return to the wastelands, shepherded by patrols of men and dwarves, in exchange for help in battle when summoned. For Thorin knew far greater foes could descend on the mountain and no ally could be ignored. For now though, they celebrated, dwarves and men alike.

A caravan of dwarves returned from the West, some two years after Thorin's one hundredth birthday. They were received in the great hall, many dwarves eager to know of the world. The merchants brought news from all over the land, from Rivendell to Mithlond, but very little word from the Shire. Roads had turned impassable, with forest thickets too dense to hack. Strange beasts roamed the land.

"The closest we reached was Bree," told Bofur, a wiry, sharp-witted toymaker. Not one of Durin's folk, but Thorin knew him well. "Bushes the likes of which we've never seen cut off our path, thorns sharp as daggers, branches as cutting as claws. But Bree folk seemed unconcerned. No word came from Bywater or Hobbiton, none to seek help or warn of danger."

"We should not presume all is well, still," Lady Dis, sister to Thorin and granddaughter to Thror, said. She sat at the Prince's side most often, a trusted advisor in all matters.

"No, we should not," agreed Thorin. Dis' hand atop his own smoothed his grip on the chair. His thoughts had turned often to his friend.  Just as often, it had been in the quiet of his chambers, during the darkest of the dark that he allowed himself to worry. Worry he did, for to miss a birthday celebration had been understandable, but no word in two years was… very unlike Bilbo. Unless… "What of the rest of the land, anything to report?"

"Orcs have circled the edge of Mirkwood again, by the Forest River. The elves push them back without trouble. Wargs attacked Dunland for the past two winters. Folks there are battling them as best they can."

Beasts were not unfamiliar in the land and man, elf, dwarf or hobbit were well prepared to fight them. Beasts alone would not have stopped hobbits from travelling. Something else was afoot; some fears were easier to speak of than others. That tragedy had befallen Hobbiton, one way or another, that was simple to consider. A whole land, even one as small as that, was at stake. If left alone to dwell on it however, Thorin would have confessed to a much more personal unease, one that had much to do with friendship and more.

Ravens with wings as wide as spears went out then, messengers to Hobbiton, inquiring on Bilbo. Three ravens Thorin sent to the Shire first and none returned. Neither did the rest he sent, every month on the eve of the new moon.

Midsummer, a visit from the wizard Gandalf proved that sending messengers was a fruitless pursuit. Sitting for a meal of roast mutton and golden ale, weary from journey, Gandalf spoke of similar anxiety.

"It is what I haven't found out rather than what I have, that concerns me," the wizard said. "I'm friend to folk and bird and beast and yet have not had news of hobbits in over four years. That is a mighty long time, even for folk that like to keep out of the affairs of others." He wiped the lip of his pipe on his beard, which drew an amused snort from Dis. It has to be said here that Gandalf's beard, a grey and white-streaked bushy affair, could have rivalled the beard of the eldest dwarf at the table. Which is only fair since no one exactly, save perhaps the Lady of Lothlorien, knew how old Gandalf was or what exactly were his wizardry powers. Some folk, and Thorin included himself in this category, attributed a great deal of power to him, despite his modest dress, jovial smile and penchant for the finest pipe weed. Thror, on the other hand, appeared to disagree.

"What would you have me do, wizard?" the King asked. The meal did nothing to animate him, and the wizard's visit even less.

"Rumors grow of a shadow in the East. A malice spreads, veiled, treacherous. I fear it is an evil that does not sleep, one we have thought banished from Middle Earth. We must learn who is this enemy and deal with it. Swiftly." Mugs and cups spilt as Gandalf's hand hit the table with more force than perhaps intended.

"Enemy? That is an exaggeration, surely, even for you, Gandalf," laughed Thror. With nimble fingers, he picked apart meat off ribs and signaled for more ale.

"Can you be certain it is not? No word from the Shire in years and not even caravans can reach it. Ravens do not return. What -"

"Enemy!" Thror slammed his tankard on the table in turn. "Smaug was the enemy and we defeated that scaly worm. Where were hobbits then? Where were you, when fire rained upon the mountain?"

"Men were here. Or you forget Girion's arrow brought down the beast?" Voice calmer than Thror's, Gandalf added. "Help came from those who afforded it. I dare not think what would have become of Erebor without it."

Whispers and quiet chatter died down around the long table. The eldest dwarves claimed that the smell of burning flesh still carried in the wind upon the mountain. Thror himself still carried scars, where dragon breath had charred his armor. And yes, without men, that day would have ended very differently.

In silence, Thorin raised his cup. "All hail those who left too soon." Nods and words of assent accompanied him.

"What would you have me do, wizard?" gritted Thror, too soon, in Thorin's mind, for he'd been about to address the wizard directly.

"Gather a company of dwarves. Give them leave to travel to the Shire with me. Find out what is happening, what is this shadow that has crept upon the West," Gandalf insisted, eyes moving to Thorin, seeking. "Come to the aid of an old friend."

"Thorin cannot join you. You may have ten dwarves, of your choosing, or their offering. But not Thorin; there are duties to see to, issues to handle. He cannot -"

"I will have my own say in this, grandfather," Thorin interrupted. "I am, after all, sitting right here. If I am capable enough to care for Erebor, I should be capable enough to discern whether my presence is needed on this quest, wouldn't you say?" He turned towards Gandalf. "Please, be truthful. Is it your honest thought that Hobbiton," a slight catch is his breath stopped him, "that Bilbo is in danger?"

"I've known that hobbit since he was a babe, his family long before that. Ever was he curious and keen to explore. Long ago would he have made the journey, unless dire circumstances prevented it."

Thorin nodded, just as Thror sat up, chair dragging on the floor, and stalked out of the hall. "Yes, we shall make ready."

 

***

 

Long after the meal had been cleared and Thror had shuttered himself off with his gold, the Prince and the wizard were the only ones still holding council.  Although somewhere between talking about routes across the Misty Mountains and supplies, fueled by more ale for Thorin and some vintage wine for Gandalf, the conversation turned to other matters.

"I remember how you two met, in Rivendell. Elrond had summoned folk from all corners of Middle Earth seeking an alliance should more dragons follow Smaug. Bilbo was quite impressed by you that day, did you know? And I dare say, ever since."

Thorin hid his disbelief. Embarrassing as it could have been, talking about Bilbo with someone other than a, well, dwarf felt very comforting. "Whatever for? I recall being clumsy and mincing words worse than an elf in a poetry contest."

"Of all the high and mighty lords around that table, you were the only one who'd actually fought a dragon. And lived to tell," said Gandalf, low chuckle lost in the shaking of his beard. "Plus, you paid attention to him, to what hobbits needed from the alliance. It surprised me too. _You_ surprised me. I expected more of Thror in you."

Thankful for the dim lights that hid the heat in his cheeks, Thorin asked. "And that's a good thing?"

"My dear fellow, you have no idea."

"Then I'm glad."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Opening line belongs to Mr Tolkien, of course.


End file.
